Les oiseaux de valeur
by LesMisLoony
Summary: Four times Josepha and Sophie flirted with people who weren't interested... and one time they didn't. For the #aprilfilles prompt "missing scene."


_Mannheim_

There was a distinct pattern in the Weber house: new things went to the eldest first, to Aloysia, who would use them up and leave clothes ripped, leave toys broken, leave friends jaded. If there was anything left after Aloysia was finished, Constance usually swept in to gather the pieces into her arms and attempt to repair them, grumbling under her breath about Aloysia all the while. And once Constance set her sights on something, she never let it go. Aloysia was first, Constance was second: that was the way it had always been.

Every year on their name days, Josepha and Sophie each received a new dress. When they were younger, their second present was always a doll; as they began to grow and the concept of dolls fell out of their favor, Papa would present them with a book instead. They kept their treasures in a trunk between their beds in their shared room, and they never let their older sisters go anywhere near them. It wasn't a just system, but they were at peace with it. It was all they knew.

When seventeen-year-old Wolfgang Mozart stumbled into their parlor at his mother's side, his eyes glowing and an impish smile on his face, Aloysia was still upstairs and Constance was sulking at the clavichord over some perceived slight. To the girls' surprise, Mama introduced Sophie and Josepha to the newcomer first. He dropped into a sloppy bow and grinned at them, and Josepha clutched Sophie's arm a little too tightly. "He's mine," she whispered into her little sister's ear.

Sophie peeled her hand away and squeezed it hard enough that Josepha yelped. "He won't be if he chooses me."

Their eyes met; the challenge was set.

Wolfgang grinned and held Sophie's gaze when Mama introduced her to him; when it was Josepha's turn he dropped to his knees and kissed her knuckles. She shot a haughty look at her sister as Mama shepherded Wolfgang over to the table and set out a tray of cocoa.

The sisters stationed themselves as close to Wolfgang's sides as they dared, each fixing the other with a poisonous stare whenever their guest wasn't looking. He was giggly and polite enough that it was hard to tell whose company he was enjoying more. It was especially hard since Mama kept intervening. Just as Sophie mustered the courage to rest a hand on his shoulder, Mama called for her to serve the cocoa to Wolfgang and his mother. When Josepha dared to lean in and bat her lashes, Mama appeared and pulled her to her feet, dropping into the chair at Wolfgang's side herself.

Sophie caught Josepha's eye and shrugged, but Josepha shook her head and planted herself next to her mother, leaning in and waiting for her chance to call attention to herself. She was still older than Sophie, which, as far as she was concerned, meant that she had the right to claim Wolfgang for herself.

But then the parlor door slid open and Aloysia entered in her ridiculous silver-lined dress. No one gave either Sophie or Josepha a second look after that - not even Mama.

Josepha stacked the cups and saucers a little too forcefully. "The next one is mine," she grumbled.

But Sophie merely shrugged. "We'll see about that."

 _Orange_

The princess's court was like nothing Josepha and Sophie had ever seen before. The paths were lined with flowers blooming in every color imaginable and dotted with aristocrats in dresses finer than anything they might have received on their name days. An orchestra was perched on the steps of the palace, the music of the strings curling lazily through the summer afternoon and mingling with the buzz of insects and the chatter of birds.

"This is our chance," Josepha whispered. "There are plenty of gentlemen here for all of us, and Aloysia is still busy with Wolfgang. What do you think of that man in the peach-colored jacket?"

But Sophie was not listening: her gaze was on the princess herself. She was strolling elegantly among the guests, her hair towering so high above everyone else's that her little attendant was practically on tiptoe trying to hold her parasol high enough to shield her from the sun. She paused to whisper something into a footman's ear, then unfolded her fan with a practiced flick of one wrist.

"Sophie? What are you doing?" asked Josepha, but her sister was already pushing her way through the crowd.

The princess stopped when she saw little Sophie in her path and smiled at her over the top of her fan. "Hello there," she said regally, and Sophie's cheeks turned bright pink.

Josepha came barreling out of the crowd then, skittering to a stop at her sister's side and nearly knocking her down in the process. "Excuse us, your highness!" she panted, seizing Sophie by the shoulders and steering her away.

The princess's brow lifted, but she said nothing else until Sophie craned her head over her shoulder and squeaked, "I like your hair!"

 _The God's Eye_

There was a distinct pattern in the Webers' boardinghouse: road-weary young gentlemen would arrive, stumbling through the door with suitcases in hand and the hems of their cloaks coated in dust, and Josepha and Sophie would push and shove and quarrel over who had the privilege of showing their guest to a clean room while Mama or Constance would look up over the ledger and roll their eyes. As for the gentlemen themselves, a surprising number of them appeared to be flattered by the attention.

The boardinghouse wasn't particularly well-known - some might have even gone so far as to say that it wasn't particularly well-kept, either - but it had its share of faithful guests. Many of the regulars kept coming back due to the location or the price, but there were one or two who may very well have chosen the God's Eye each time due to the company.

Of all of the regular boarders at the God's Eye, Johannes Hofer was the handsomest and the wealthiest, which made him Mama's favorite. It would have made him Josepha's and Sophie's favorite too, but the feeling was far from mutual. Herr Hofer showed up at the boardinghouse for a few days every month or two. When Mama spotted his carriage turning onto the road, she had the girls scamper upstairs and clear out the big room with the view of the courtyard for him. He dressed like a gentleman and paid like an aristocrat; the moment his back was turned Josepha and Sophie would begin one of their silent arguments over which sister he secretly preferred.

He was a peculiar man who kept to himself during the day and went out in his finest clothes every evening. He never dined with the family or the other boarders, and he was too quiet for any of the Webers to find an occasion to ask him what brought him to Vienna so frequently.

One summer, Josepha had the idea to follow him.

It was hard to keep a straight face when they told Mama that they had been invited to dine with a friend and didn't know when they would be back, but Constance had left yet another pot to boil over in the kitchen and Mama was luckily too distracted to ask any questions. Josepha and Sophie helped each other into their finest dresses and slung dark cloaks over their shoulders in the hopes that they wouldn't draw attention to themselves. As soon as they heard Herr Hofer slip out, they clambered down the stairs in pursuit.

"It was my idea," Josepha whispered as they trailed their guest down a winding alley, "so that means he's mine."

"We'll see about that," answered Sophie.

But no sooner had she she spoken than Herr Hofer knocked at a door which sprang open immediately: a man in fine clothes pulled their guest into a long, hard kiss.

Josepha and Sophie flattened themselves against a wall and held their breath until Herr Hofer's lover closed the door, leaving the sisters alone in the alley.

For a long moment, neither sister said anything. They stood unmoving in their places in the shadows, their wide eyes trained on the closed door. That was certainly not what either of them had expected.

It was Sophie who broke the silence at last: "You know... if we go back now, we can probably make it home in time to get some dinner," she said quietly.

Josepha nodded. They were several streets away before she finally said, "Well, the next one will be mine, anyway."

 _The Burgtheater_

Sophie was deep in conversation with Herr Stephanie and a charming ballerina when Lorenzo Da Ponte stepped into the dressing room. By the time she figured out why everyone had gone quiet, Josepha was already on her feet.

It wasn't so much the man himself as it was the principle of the thing, Sophie thought as Josepha shot her a coy smirk. The court composer was handsome enough, with his long legs and his large eyes, but since the day they had seen Herr Hofer embrace another man, her heart hadn't been in the competition the way it used to be. She turned a rueful smile on her companion before hurrying after her sister.

But Da Ponte seemed even less interested in Josepha than Sophie was in him. One of his large hands was closed over Mozart's shoulder as the two whispered about some new opera; he didn't even look up when Josepha cleared her throat. She glanced unhappily over her shoulder at Sophie, who grinned and rolled her eyes.

Whatever Da Ponte was saying must have been important, for Wolfgang spun around suddenly and ushered everyone out of the room to let them talk in peace. Sophie hurried after her ballerina friend, but Josepha lingered. She had always been stubborn.

Sophie finally went back and dragged Josepha away by one arm. Her sister's defeat was evident on her face even before she pursed her lips at Sophie and shook her head.

"Not even a glance?" Sophie asked sympathetically.

Josepha shrugged. "I think he might be one of Hofer's friends, if you know what I mean."

Sophie just laughed. "We'll make sure the next one is one of yours."

 _Schönbrunn_

It was lucky for the entire Weber family that Wolfgang and Constance had finally been married. True, his work wasn't exactly bringing in a salary the way Aloysia's husband's did, but Aloysia's husband wasn't getting the whole family invited to receptions at the imperial palace, either.

Sophie and Josepha stuck tightly together at first, craning their necks at the painted ceiling and the intricate chandeliers while revelers pressed in around them on all sides. They had been to the odd ball here and there, mostly because Aloysia was singing there or had sung for the host, but it was their first time being invited to the emperor's own palace. At first it felt like the room was large enough to contain the whole of Vienna; then, when they began to see more and more familiar faces among the well-dressed guests, they began to wonder if it did.

Wolfgang had wrapped an arm around Constance's waist and was whirling her around the room in a blur of lavender silk and golden hair and high-pitched giggles. He nearly plowed Sophie over, but released Constance long enough to grab her little sister by the shoulders and kiss both of her cheeks. He brought Josepha's knuckles to his lips with a dramatic smack. "Go!" he insisted, "Dance! Flirt! Have fun!"

As he swept their sister away, Sophie stuck an elbow into Josepha's side. "Do you remember the time you tried to woo Wolfgang yourself?"

Josepha snorted. "Time?"

"Times," Sophie corrected herself with a grin. But her satisfaction dropped away a moment later when she spotted a striking silhouette on the far side of the room that she had never expected to see again. She seized Josepha's arm, her eyes growing round.

"What is it?" Josepha asked, following her sister's gaze.

A tall, distinguished woman with a tower of pink hair was making her way across the dance floor, her tiny attendant stumbling along in her wake. She cast a distant smile in the sisters' direction as she passed, and Sophie nearly toppled over where she stood.

"The princess," Josepha whispered. "Sophie, do you remember the time we were at her palace, and you-"

"Of course I remember!" hissed Sophie.

Taking pity on her for once, Josepha put an arm around her sister's shoulders and guided her away from the floor. "I'm certain that the princess doesn't," she said gently.

The dance wound on around them, but for some reason none of the well-dressed gentlemen in attendance were asking either of the sisters to dance. Josepha spotted a table of refreshments and steered her little sister toward it. If they weren't going to come out of this ball with marriage prospects, they might at least go home with full bellies.

They spotted Herr Hofer on an elegant bench, one hand cupped by his cheek as he whispered into the ear of a young gentleman at his side.

"Josepha-" Sophie began, but her sister cut her off.

"Yes, I remember! God, this reception has become a nightmare! I suppose next we'll find ourselves facing-"

"Lorenzo Da Ponte!" Wolfgang's voice called from behind them.

The sisters whirled around in time to see their brother-in-law seize his librettist by one arm and spin him in a circle.

Josepha let out a long groan.

"They love us!" Wolfgang was crowing. "I told you they would."

"And you were right!" said the librettist with his goofy grin.

Sophie wrinkled her nose and glanced up at her sister. "Do you remember-?"

"Shut up!" Josepha snapped. She glanced desperately between the bench where Herr Hofer was sitting and the floor where Wolfgang was chatting with Da Ponte. They were trapped, and the dessert table was still on the far side of the room. There was nowhere to go where they wouldn't be reminded of men who had rejected their advances. The last thing the sisters wanted was to wind up in a strained conversation with either of these would-be suitors.

"Ah, there he is," Da Ponte was saying. "Wolfgang, wait here a moment." He disappeared into the crowd and returned a moment later, leading a brooding stranger by the arm.

Josepha stood up straighter as soon as she laid eyes on him, the sulk into which she had slipped vanishing immediately. "Sophie," she breathed.

Da Ponte's friend was handsome, with dark eyes, a neat beard, and well-cut clothes. He eyed Wolfgang distastefully as Da Ponte led him through the crowd.

"This one is mine," Josepha whispered, tugging down her bodice just enough to call attention to her bosom.

But Sophie seized her by the wrist and pulled her back. "I don't think-"

"Wolfgang, have you been introduced to my friend Salieri?" Da Ponte asked.

A wicked grin spread across Wolfgang's face. "Antonio Salieri!"

"He was telling me the other day how much he loved your work."

"Lorenzo," the composer said through clenched teeth.

Josepha snatched her arm free of Sophie's grip. "Don't be a pain," she snapped. "I saw him first."

"Josepha... look at him," Sophie insisted.

Both sisters turned back to the musicians, and understanding finally dawned in Josepha's eyes.

Salieri was standing so close to Da Ponte that their shoulders were brushing, and Da Ponte's hand was rested casually at the small of his back. He was frowning down the length of his nose at Wolfgang, but his ears were bright red.

"Oh," Josepha murmured, "he's _that_ Salieri."

"A friend of Hofer's," Sophie whispered. "Leave him be."

Josepha nodded, linking her arm through her sister's and letting her guide her away for once.

At least now the path to the dessert table was clear.


End file.
